Long Road to Ruin
by Sue Pokorny
Summary: Set between JIB & GF, season 3. Lilith's demons track the boys down and set the scene for the Winchester's great escape.
1. Chapter 1

**Long Road to Ruin**

"You think it's true?"

Sam Winchester glanced at his older brother as he tossed the last of the bags into the back seat of the Impala. "Huh?"

Dean turned, mirroring his brother's actions with his own armload of packages. He nodded his head toward the large neon sign glowing against the star filled Iowa night sky before turning his gaze to his brother. "The sign. 'Largest Truck Stop in the World.' Think it really is?"

Sam grinned at the wide-eyed look of innocent curiosity on his brother's face. Whenever Dean got that look on his face, Sam couldn't help but think of a little kid at Christmas. It was what he was going to miss most about his brother when he…

Sam cleared his throat and directed his attention to the sign, perched high above the throng of traffic moving down Interstate 80. "Biggest one I've ever seen."

Dean twisted his mouth in a satisfactory grin and bobbed his head in agreement. "I'll admit this place is huge. That store in the back had everything!"

They had decided to stock up on some supplies that had been nearly depleted during the last year, wandering into the I-80 truck stop to wait for Bobby to join up with them. At first glance the place had been nice, a lot of wood sculptures and touristy trinkets spread across the shops in the front of the mall like truck stop. As they'd ventured further in, past the array of fast food outlets, they had stepped down into what could only be described as a trucker's paradise.

The huge store took up most of the back of the building, filled from end to end with everything and anything a man on the road could possibly need. Of course there were the snacks and small items you could find at any convenience store, but further down the items became more specific to the industry ranging from clothing to mechanical parts to items such as television and sound set-ups that would make any Best Buy employee green with jealousy.

Sam has insisted Dean buy a new pair of boots as well as a couple of the flannel shirts to stave off the chilly Midwest spring. Dean had started to argue that what he had would last him and there was really no sense in wasting the credit card on things he probably wouldn't be around long enough to use, but one look at his younger brother's face told him that Sam was well aware of the approaching deadline and the protest had died on his lips. If making sure Dean had a new pair of boots would help Sam believe that he could still save his brother, Dean had no intention of shattering his brother's illusion.

It was the least he could do.

Besides, it's not like it was really their money anyway, right?

Dean slammed the back door of the Impala and leaned across the car, his arms folded against the shiny black top. "So, Bobby say how long before he was gonna be here?"

Sam shut his own door and thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "He said he was still a few of hours out."

"Did he mention what kind of hunt he'd found us?" Dean was pretty sure the older hunter had concocted the need to meet up with them because of the nearness of the deadline of Dean's deal. Bobby had worked as hard as Sam to come up with some way to get Dean out of the contract and Dean was grateful to the man for everything he had done for them. He knew what was going to happen would hit Bobby hard. He also knew that the older man would do everything he could to help Sam get through it. Bobby had never said it out loud, but Dean knew he blamed himself for leaving after Sam had been killed at Cold Oak.

Despite the older hunter's guilt, Dean knew that nothing would have stopped him from trying to bring his brother back. The Deal was the only option he had, and he never regretted it for a minute. Even when he had finally confessed to Sam that he didn't want to die, he knew he had no regrets and in the same situation, he would do whatever he had to do to protect his brother.

It was his job.

It was who he was.

And he would never apologize for putting his family first.

Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't scared. They'd sent a lot of demons back to hell and Dean wasn't so naïve as to think they wouldn't all be waiting for him -- and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to enjoy their 'Welcome to Hell' party.

But he had saved Sam. And that was what mattered. As long as he knew Sam was still in the fight, he could take whatever they threw at him. Knowing Bobby would be around to look after his little brother took a huge load of his mind. Dean was sure Bobby wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"So, if we still have to wait for Bobby, what do you say we go on in and try that buffet?"

Sam smiled and shook his head fondly. "Where the hell do you put it all, man?"

Dean returned the smile. "I'm magic, Sammy. Pure magic."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

They were seated in a small booth in the dimly lighted restaurant less than ten minutes later, plates mounded with food before them. Sam had decided to start at the amply filled yet diverse salad bar, heaping his plate with spinach leaves and vegetables before making his way to the main food bar selecting a juicy Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. Dean, on the other hand, had opted to skip the rabbit food all together in favor of more appetizing fare. Balancing the fried chicken, roast beef, broasted potatoes and large slice of steaming lasagna had been a trick, but one the older brother was accustomed to and handled with practiced ease.

They both dug into the food with gusto, having eaten warmed up mini-mart burritos and chips for the last twenty-four hours on the road. After a second trip to the food bar and one to the dessert area, both hunters were satiated, leaning back into the cushioned booth, satisfied smiles on their faces.

"So," Sam breathed around a burp, "That's an hour down. We still have a while before Bobby shows."

Dean nodded, his right arm patting his expanded belly. "Think they'd mind if we just sat here for a while? I'm so full I doubt if I could move even if I wanted to."

Sam's grin widened. "Maybe that's because you just ate half the buffet all by yourself."

"You weren't exactly pecking at seed yourself, Big Bird. I noticed you keeping up with me plate for plate."

Sam chuckled and dipped his head. "Well, it's been a while since we've been able to just sit back and stuff ourselves." He shrugged. It had been a hard couple of weeks, both hunters trying hard to come to terms with the aftermath of their brief incarceration at the hands of Special Agent Hendrickson.

The bullet wound in Dean's shoulder had more or less mended without complications, as had the numerous bruises and cuts obtained in their battle with the demons. Unfortunately, the internal wounds hadn't healed quite as easily. They had made a silent agreement not to mention the devastation the demon Lilith had wreaked upon the small town sheriff's station, neither brother able to truly vocalize the guilt they felt for having brought the innocent lives into their war. Instead, they had both continued on, doing what they could to save lives despite the expanding desperation in their hearts.

Sam smiled at his brother. "Besides, the sign did say 'All You Can Eat'. I couldn't let you have all the fun."

"Good point." Dean let go a soft belch. "Man, I better go hit the head before I explode." At Sam's look of disgust, Dean laughed and pushed himself up out of the seat with a groan.

"Overdo it a bit?"

"Oh but it was so worth it, Sammy." Dean turned and headed out of the restaurant toward the restrooms as the waitress approached with the check.

"You boys can really put it away," she smiled warmly at Sam.

"Just trying to keep up with my big brother," Sam returned the smile. He pulled some bills out of his wallet and slapped them down on the table on top of the check. With a nod of thanks, the waitress took the cash leaving Sam to relax back into the corner of the booth and wait for his brother to return.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Sam checked his watch, his brow furrowing as he noted his brother had been gone a good thirty minutes. Although it wasn't unheard of for Dean to make a lengthy pitstop – especially after a huge meal like the one they had just consumed – Sam was increasingly on edge after the all out attack in Colorado. The demons had begun playing by different rules, and Sam had decided it wouldn't hurt to begin being a bit more cautious even when things looked perfectly normal.

Normal.

That was rich.

When had their lives ever been normal?

The Winchester version of normal was being able to sleep in a moderately clean motel without waking up to a nightmare or one of a thousand supernatural baddies that wanted their heads. Currently, with Lilith's demon army on their tail, Sam had started looking for evil in every shadow, in every situation. So it was no surprise that his older brother's long delay in returning to the restaurant had triggered a growing concern.

Sam pushed himself out of the booth, snagging his coat along with Dean's. If the older man's absence was simply due to a prolonged call of nature, Sam could feign annoyance or impatience as justification for the interruption. But, with the way their luck had been running lately – he would rather be safe than sorry.

As soon as he stepped out of the dark restaurant, tho, Sam knew his concern had been warranted. A small crowd had gathered around the far end of the entranceway, just outside the public rest rooms. His height facilitated his push to the front of the crowd, his unease increasing as he saw the object of his concern sitting on the tile outside the men's room under the watchful gaze of a security guard.

Sam rushed across the small distance, his focus on his brother until a hand shot, impacting with his chest bringing an abrupt end to his momentum.

"That's my brother," Sam pointed a hand at Dean, who still leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, legs out in front and hands lying limply in his lap.

The security guard took a moment to consider, but finally gave Sam and short, crisp nod and dropped his hand.

"Dean?" Sam dropped to a knee beside his brother, his eyes quickly skimming the older man, coming to rest on the small trickle of blood curving down the side of his neck. "Hey, man. You with me?"

Dean swallowed and nodded, his eyes squeezing tightly as the movement obviously increased the pain apparent on his face.

"What the hell happened?" Sam's question was directed over his shoulder at the guard as he dug a napkin out of his pocket and began to dab at the bleeding cut directly behind his brother's left ear.

"I've radioed for a squad car to take him to the county lock-up."

"Lock-up?" Sam turned and stared at the guard. "Why the hell would you be taking him to lock-up? He's hurt! You should be worried about having a paramedic look at him."

The guard nodded. "They're sending a paramedic unit out, too." The guard sniffed and adjusted his belt. "They'll check him out when he gets to the Sheriff's office."

"Didn't we just leave this nightmare?" Dean moaned quietly.

Sam ignored his brother and focused on the guard. "Why exactly are you taking my brother anywhere but a hospital?" He shifted as Dean moaned again, finally noticing the silver handcuffs attached to his brother's wrists, partially hidden by the sleeves of his flannel shirt. "And why the hell is he in cuffs?" Sam's voice rose, the young hunter barely controlling his anger at he noticed the smug expression of the security guard.

"He attacked a young woman." The guard crossed his arms, not backing down in the face of Sam's irritation.

"What?"

"Sam."

Sam turned back to his brother at the sound of Dean's soft voice. The older hunter rolled his head against the wall until he could look up at Sam through squinted eyes. "She was a demon."

Damn.

Sam quickly nodded his understanding and took a deep breath, knowing he had some quick talking to do in order to keep the local authorities from taking his brother to jail. Hendrickson's last act had been to make sure the FBI stopped their pursuit of the Winchester brothers, he wasn't about to let any demon undo the man's final good deed.

"Look," Sam said as he slowly rose to his full height. He tried not to smile as the shorter security guard took an unconscious step back as he craned his neck to look up at Sam's 6'4" stature. "Whatever you believe happened, I'm sure my brother can explain. Trust me, he doesn't simply go around attacking people." _Unless they were possessed by demons,_ he silently added.

He turned as he heard Dean groan, looping an arm under his brother's shoulder as the older hunter forced himself to his feet. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of understanding if you would just –"

The click of the handcuffs around his left wrist cut him off and he stared open mouthed as the guard quickly snapped the other end of the cuffs around Dean's right, directly above the cuffs already shackling his brother's arms together.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The guard smiled coldly, "My job. You want to make sure your brother gets the proper attention, by all means. We can make sure you stay with him at all times." He turned his head as the flashing red and blue lights began to flicker off the walls in the entryway. "Gentlemen, looks like your ride is here."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

It only took moments for the guard and the county deputy to herd the brothers into the back of the squad car. Sam had tried to protest, but was told in no uncertain terms that they would work everything out once they got back to the sheriff's department.

The cool night air seemed to snap Dean out of the slight daze he had been in inside the truck stop and he managed to make the trip from the entryway to the car without assistance. Once they were secured in the backseat, the officer returned to get a report from the security guard and Sam leaned forward to assess his brother.

"You okay"

"Yeah," Dean rolled his head. "I'm fine, Sam."

"What the hell happened?"

Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. "I was coming back from the john and this chick just slammed right into me. I was about to apologize – even tho it was no way my fault – when I looked up and saw her eyes."

"Don't tell me. Black."

"As coal," Dean nodded. "Next thing I know, I'm flat on my ass, my head is ringing like a bell and Barney Fife is slapping these bangles on me." He held up his wrists to emphasize the cuffs.

"How the hell did they find us?"

Dean shrugged and lay his head back against the seat. "Who knows. Maybe one of us is carrying some kind of homing beacon or maybe it was just shitty random luck. Either way, that bitch knows we're here and dollars to donuts she's gonna call in her book club ladies as soon as possible."

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes rising to the entryway as the deputy shook hands with the security guard and started back to the car. "This is starting to get old."

"Tell me about it."

Their conversation stopped as the officer opened the front door and climbed in behind the wheel. "Welcome to Iowa, boys. I hope you enjoy your stay."

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

"Damn." The officer pulled the cruiser to a stop in the center of the road, his eyes surveying the wreckage strewn across the narrow asphalt highway. With a sigh he shifted the car into park and cut the engine. He eyed the two prisoners in the back seat warily.

"I'm going to go check this out. You two don't move a muscle or I'll hog tie the both of you before we get back to town.

He was met with two sets of innocent eyes.

"Yes, sir, Officer," Dean replied with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Hog-tied, understood."

Officer Carter simply shook his head, his patience sorely tested by the loud mouth chained in his cage.

"Dean," Sam cautioned as soon as the cop had closed the door. "I'm really glad you're feeling better, but could you maybe try not to antagonize the guy with the keys to the cuffs?" He held up his manacled wrist, shaking the short links that connected him to his brothers set of cuffs for effect.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Dean grinned, bending his neck to watch the officer's progress toward the wreck. "You got to learn to have more faith, dude." He leaned a little lower, his hand reaching inside his boot. A few moments later, he withdrew it, a small silver pick clutched between his fingers. He rolled his head and grinned at his brother, waggling his eyebrows in confidence. "When have I ever let you down, Sammy? Huh?"

He quickly flipped the thin silver tool, making quick work of the cuff attached to his own left wrist.

Sam was about to make a comment about his brother's resourcefulness when a muffled scream from outside of the car caught his attention. He looked up to see a young woman standing directly outside the driver's door of the smashed up vehicle. Although the woman had blood running down her face and chest, she stood firmly, her arms outstretched holding the cop at least a foot off the ground.

"That can't be good," he muttered. "Uh, Dean?"

"What?"

"The demon chick at the truck stop, did she look anything like her?"

At his brother's question, Dean looked up from his task, following the younger man's line of sight in time to see a billow of familiar looking black smoke emerge from the wounded young woman and cram itself directly into the open mouth of the policeman.

"Please tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing."

"Okay," Sam responded, his eyes glued to the demonic transfer currently taking place on the side of the road. "You're not seeing what you think you're seeing."

"Oh thank God. 'Cause for a second there I thought we might be in trouble."

Both men stilled as the woman dropped bonelessly to the ground. The now possessed officer lifted his head and turned slowly, an evil grin splitting his face as he gazed at the two men shackled in the back of the cruiser through empty black eyes.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam's voice was low, his eyes on the officer who began to step back toward the car.

"Yeah."

"I think we might be in trouble."

"Son of a bitch."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

_Just a little aside: I wanted to get this posted, even tho it is not complete yet, so I just wanted to let everyone know that I won't be posting a new chapter every day as I usually do with my stories. If you've been paying attention to the news, you've probably seen Cedar Rapids, Iowa and our lovely flood. It hasn't really affected me, but has a lot of my friends, so I'm trying to help them out. I promise to work diligently, tho and get this finished within the next few weeks! Posting the first part will help me to not blow it off indefinitely! Thanks for reading and thanks for your patience!!_

_Sue_


	2. Chapter 2

**Long Road to Ruin**

Chapter 2

"Um, Dean…" Sam didn't take his eyes from the approaching demon as he lowered his head to follow the officer's progress toward the car.

"I'm working on it, Sammy."

True to his word, Dean leaned back against his brother and pulled his legs up against his body. Using Sam as a brace, he thrust out with his feet, smashing them against the window, which only moved slightly outward.

"Uh, Dean, bullet proof glass."

Dean spared his brother an annoyed glance as he pulled his legs up for another go. "Then it's a good thing I'm not trying to shoot the damn thing, huh?" This time the glass gave a bit more, the top of the rolled up window obviously pushed outside its normal position. Without hesitating, Dean recoiled a third time, forcing the glass from its track and send it crashing to the asphalt below.

He reached out his free arm and grabbed the outside handle, quickly pressing and opening the rear door. Sliding from the seat, he pulled Sam behind him waiting only a second for his brother's feet to hit the pavement before they were off and running into the dark field that bordered the road.

The first shot rang out causing both hunters to duck instinctively. Either the deputy the demon was possessing wasn't a very good shot, or the darkness and speed of the prey had caused the shot to go far right. Of course, the demon could be simply toying with them and not really trying to hit them, although it was pretty clear the demons they had encountered so far wanted them dead – at least Lilith's followers. And pretty much every other escapee from Hell they'd ever met – with the one exception of Ruby. But Dean still wasn't sure of her agenda, so he wasn't exactly willing to invite her on the bandwagon just yet.

The darkness was helping to obscure their flight across the muddy field, but it was also making their footing treacherous as they ran, each step crushing the early growth in the field. As they topped a small rise, another shot rang out and Dean heard his brother cry out only a split second before he felt him go down. The wrenching pull on his right arm effectively stopped his momentum and he was pulled down onto his back, as his feet flew out from under him.

Effectively hidden by the darkness and the small roll of the field, Dean took a moment to get his breath back, aware of the increasing pain in his right shoulder. A quiet groan focused his attention on his brother and the cause of the sudden halt to their flight took precedence in his mind.

"Sam?" He pushed himself up, biting back his own groan as his pulled shoulder protested the movement. "Sammy? You okay?" he whispered, his ears alert for any sign of their pursuit.

"I think that last shot came a little too close."

"You hit?" He fumbled to his right, trying not to move his right arm as his left hand attached itself to his brother's leg.

"Just grazed me." Sam's voice was thin, but Dean could tell he was being truthful. "You?"

"I think you pulled my arm out of its socket." Dean groused. "We better keep going. No telling if that son of a bitch followed us out here. Can you move?"

"I'm good."

Both hunters forced themselves to their feet and stood for a moment, listening to the quiet night. "Think we lost him?"

Even though he couldn't hear any footfalls from the soft muddy ground surrounding them, Dean was sure the demon hadn't given up. "He's out there. He's playing with us." Demons didn't quit. That was one thing Dean was sure of.

They headed off across the field, their pace slowed as they cautiously made their way through the mud and seedlings. Dean was pretty sure it was corn, but when plants were this small, they pretty much all looked alike. Besides, it was pretty dark out away from the bright neon of the truck stop, only the three quarter moon lighting their way.

Which would explain why they missed the drop off at the edge of the field.

The soft ground gave way and Sam went down first, the handcuffs connecting them quickly pulling his brother down after him. The incline wasn't steep, and both hunters rolled over each other twice before coming to rest in a shallow stream one on top of the other.

Sam shook his head, a bit dazed from the sudden shift in position. He was partially submerged in a fast flowing stream of very cold water lying half on top of something…

"Dean!"

Sam quickly pushed himself off his brother, wincing as his injured arm gave and he plopped down sideways into the freezing water.

"Dean!"

"This sucks."

Sam couldn't suppress a soft chuckle as he brushed his bangs from his face and placed a hand on his brother's chest.

"You okay?"

"You ever get tired of asking that same stupid question?"

"You ever get tired of giving me reason to ask that stupid question?"

"You ever think that I don't actually give you a reason to ask that question on purpose?"

Sam sighed and pushed himself to his knees. "You want to get out of this water or you having fun with the twenty question?" He forced himself to his feet and grasped the hand that came up attached to his own.

"Ow!"

"What?"

"My shoulder, Kong."

Sam winced in sympathy, remembering the quick deceleration his brother had suffered moments earlier. "Sorry. Give me your other hand."

Dean complied, but grunted in pain again. Sam barely stifled an echoing grunt as the burning in his own arm reminded him he wasn't exactly at 100 either.

"Now what's wrong?"

"Ah, jail cell? Bullet through my body? Ringing any bells? Still a little sore."

Sam dropped the hand and hunched down next to his brother, the cold water beginning to seep through his boots. His arm was throbbing, but he pushed it away, knowing there was nothing they could do about it at the moment. He was up and he was mobile, which was more than he could say for his brother right now. "Well, then you're gonna have to get your ass up by yourself, you big baby."

Dean scowled and pushed himself over, slowly rising up to his knees. "Have I mentioned how much this sucks?"

Sam placed a hand on his arm, steadying him as he rose to his feet. Dean swallowed hard as the world tilted and he leaned forward, not bothering to even attempt to suppress a frustrated moan.

"Head still hurt?"

"I think I'm gonna hurl."

Sam took a small step back, not able to get completely out of the way because of the cuffs, but wanting to be far enough to avoid the barrage if Dean's dinner decided to make a reappearance. He'd seen how much his brother had put away. It wasn't going to be pretty.

After a few minutes and even more deep breaths, Dean slowly straightened and gave his brother a cursory look. "Afraid to get a little messy, Sam?"

The younger hunter simply shrugged. "That lasagna smelled disgusting going in, Dean. No way was I gonna get too close to it coming out."

Dean just shook his head and swiped his left hand against the side of his head, his fingers coming away dark in the waning moonlight.

"You're bleeding again."

"So are you." Dean waved his hand indicating the dark stain on Sam's sleeve. "We need to find someplace to hole up," he said, his head slowly swiveling, his eyes squinting as they searched the darkness surrounding them.

"Dean, we're in the middle of a corn field, I don't think –"

"What's that?"

Sam looked in the direction his brother was pointing, his own eyes squinting to distinguish the dark shape in the shadows of the trees bordering the field. "I'll be damned," he whispered in surprise. "It looks like some kind of equipment shed or something. Probably where the farmer stores his tractor and stuff."

"Tractor and stuff?" Dean repeated with a grin. "Trying to get technical on me there, Old MacDonald?"

"Bite me."

Dean chuckled, shivering as the cold water that soaked his jacket and shirt chilled his skin. He searched the darkness behind them, his ears searching for any sign of pursuit. "I think we lost him for the time being, but I wouldn't bet the farm on the demon staying gone for long."

Sam shook his head at the older man's lame attempt at humor. "Think you can make it to the shed?"

"Think you can stop asking me stupid questions?"

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn


	3. Chapter 3

**Long Road to Ruin**

Chapter 3

The shed wasn't much of a shelter. At first glance, it looked as if a strong breeze could take it down and leave nothing but a pile of old, weathered lumber in its wake. As the Winchesters managed to pry open the warped door on the north side of the structure, they found it to be quite a bit stronger than it first appeared, obviously able to stand up to the harsh Iowa seasons with little maintenance.

The inside of the shed was dark and dank, lit only by the slivers of moonlight leaking in between the slats in the roof and sides. Large bags of what looked like fertilizer sat in an orderly heap against the side of the shed, while various small pieces of equipment and tools hung from pegs on the walls and lay scattered on the cement ground.

Dean shuffled over to the side wall and allowed his sore body to fall gracelessly onto the piled up bags of fertilizer. Leaning back against the damp wooden wall as far as his shackled wrist would allow, he watched as Sam secured the door then turn and lean his shoulder against the wood.

"See if you can find a piece of wire or something to pick these cuffs."

"What happened to your little silver wonderpick?"

"I seemed to have misplaced it somewhere in a dark cornfield, Sam. Care to go back and do a quick search?"

Ignoring his brother's sarcasm, Sam searched the tools, coming up with a small, thin piece of wire, which he inserted into the cuff near his hand, quickly opening the shackle and extracting his arm. He shook his arm, wincing as the chafed skin burned across his wrist. He turned and removed the other end of the cuff from Dan's wrist, not missing the way his brother pulled his arm across his stomach, cradling it with his left.

"We need to check your arm," Dean said, nodding his chin toward the dark stain on his Sam's sleeve.

"I told you, Dean," Sam shook his head wearily. "It's just a scratch."

"Yeah, well it was enough of a scratch to knock us both on our asses, so why don't you just can the bravado and let me take a look at it?"

_Hello Pot, I'm Kettle._ "I'm fine, Dean."

Dean snorted a laugh. "I thought that was my line."

"Yeah, well you're my hero, dude. I want to be just like you when I grow up."

"Keep dreaming, Tinkerbell. Now let me check your arm."

Sighing in frustration, Sam reluctantly moved across the small space and shrugged out of his jacket, allowing his brother access to his arm. The groove cut high across his bicep, deep enough to gouge through the outer layer of muscle, but not enough to require sutures.

"Looks like it just grazed you," Dean said as he twisted the younger man's arm to take advantage of the soft sliver of light shining down from a shifted board across the roof. "I think you'll live."

"Thanks, Dr. McDreamy."

Dean yanked on Sam's sleeve, easily ripping the rest from the shirt and quickly wrapped it around his brother's bicep, tying the ends directly over the wound to secure the bandage, giving the wound a little bit of protection. "We'll need to clean it out soon, but that's gonna have to do for now."

"What about you?" Sam asked, flexing his arm to test the strength of the bandage.

Dean rubbed at his right shoulder, wincing at the motion. "It's not dislocated, but it hurts like a bitch. Probably stretched a few tendons or something."

Sam nodded. Knowing Dean, it was probably an unrealistic assessment of his actual condition -- Sam could tell the older man was in some serious pain – he also knew he'd never be able to get his brother to admit it. Between the head wound , the wrenched shoulder and the barely healed bullet wound, Sam was pretty sure his brother was close to the end of his endurance. But, this was Dean, and Dean had always been able to dig deep and come up with reserves of strength that had always amazed the other two Winchesters.

It was no wonder a young Sam Winchester had looked at his older brother as some kind of superhero. Dean had always been able to pick himself up and stand between his family and anything that threatened them. And despite time running out on the deal and Dean's fate looming near, Sam still saw that same amazing strength in his brother.

"Now what?" Sam asked, leaning back against the wall. "It won't be long until that demon tracks us down. We have no weapons, no holy water, no salt. We've barely got a working arm between us…"

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine?"

"Dean."

"Yeah, I know." The older hunter sighed and shifted to dig into his pocket. "Check your phone. Maybe one of them is still dry and in working order."

Reaching into his pocket, Sam pulled out his cell phone, groaning as he saw the smashed display. "Damn," he muttered, testing the power button and receiving nothing but silence from the small electronic device. "My cell's toast. How's yours?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as his shoulder throbbed at the movement, but managed to extract his own phone from his damp jeans pocket. It seemed to be in tact, albeit a bit wet from his impromptu dip in the stream. Flipping the device open, he held it up to the light, squinting at the barely lit display. "Only one bar," he shrugged slightly before flipping the phone closed and tossing it to his brother. "See if you can get hold of Bobby."

Sam caught the phone deftly and opened it again, quickly scrolling down to their friend's number and pressing send.

_snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns_

The unexpected late-night activity at the I-80 truck stop really shouldn't have come as such a surprise to Bobby Singer as he pulled slowly behind the three highway patrol cruisers parked on the south side of the parking lot. He was, after all, meeting the Winchesters and if anyone could find trouble without actually looking for it, it was those two boys.

He found the Impala easily, relieved to see it parked unobtrusively halfway down the lot, unharmed and seemingly of little or no interest to the uniformed officers gathered in the lot near the main entrance of the truck stop. He quickly pulled his own battered Chevelle into a space next to the Impala, noting the locked doors and pile of packages in the back seat as he made his way across the lot to the building.

He slowed as he approached the group of officers, pulling his cap down on his head as he focused in on their conversations.

"… _Harriman said they took off across the field. As soon as the county boys get here with those search dogs, we've got orders to head out…"_

"… _two of 'em. Mid twenties. Didn't get any kind of ID, but they managed to give him the slip about a mile down the road…"_

"… _no idea how Harriman lost 'em. Damn locals are incompetent if you ask me…"_

The sudden chirp of his cell phone stole his attention and he looked at the display, cursing under his breath as the name _**DEAN**_ lit up across it. He took a few steps away from the cops before flipping open the phone and answering the call.

"Dammit, Dean," he kept his voice low but didn't bother to hide his annoyance that the young hunters had apparently gotten themselves into another predicament. "What the hell have you and that idjit brother of yours done now?"

"_Good to hear from you, too, Bobby."_

"Sam? What the hell… there's a parking lot full of cops here and I'm guessing you two jackasses are smack in the middle of it."

Sam sighed through the connection. _"It wasn't our fault, Bobby –"_

"It never is, kid. Where the hell are you?"

There was a rustle on the other end and Dean's voice replaced that of his brother. _"Watch yourself, Bobby. One of those cops is possessed."_

Bobby paused for a moment, casually glancing back at the group of policemen, trying to gauge the seriousness of Dean's claim. "You sure?"

"_No. Sam and I just decided we haven't had enough excitement in our lives lately and thought we'd stir things up a bit while we waited for your sorry slow ass. Yes I'm sure!"_

"Okay, okay," Bobby took a deep breath, holding out a hand in a calming gesture even though the younger man couldn't see it through the phone. "Just tell me what happened."

By the time Dean was done explaining the events leading up to their quick run across the muddy Iowa landscape, Bobby's face was fixed into an expression of confusion.

"You telling me this demon just came at you out of nowhere?"

"_Kind of the way our luck's been running lately, man."_

"How'd it know where you were?"

Bobby could almost hear the younger man shrug_. "Hell if I know. Maybe they have some kind of a lo-jack lock on the psychic wonder here, or maybe it was just having a lucky day. However it found us, Bobby, it's still out there and if it's one of this Lillith-bitch's bitches, it could have already sent out party invitations. It could be Colorado all over again, which is something we would really rather avoid."_

Movement near the circle of cops caught Bobby's attention and he watched as one of the officers began to edge his way out of the group and slowly move out into the darkness of the parking lot.

_"Bobby? You still there?"_

"This possessed cop – he about six foot, dark hair, kind of hunched shoulders?"

"_How'd you know?"_

Bobby slowly started back toward his car, his eyes squinting through the darkness as he kept his attention on the position of the possessed cop as he began to fade into the shadows near the vehicles at the other end of the lot. "I got a bead on him. You boys stay put. I'll be in touch."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Long Road to Ruin

**Long Road to Ruin**

Chapter 4

The cool Iowa night permeated the small shed, the only sounds were the trees slight rustle in the breeze and the occasional chirp of an early season cricket. For the most part, the silence outside was oppressive, but Sam was thankful that it would make any movement approaching the small building that much more noticeable.

The moon still shone through the weathered boards, highlighting his brother in a haphazard pattern as he slumped against the far side of the shed. Sam could see the exhausted slump of Dean's shoulders, and the squint of his eyes gave testimony to the pain his brother was in. But those eyes were alert, keeping watch, ever vigilant to whatever danger may present itself.

Sam sat in the corner directly opposite his brother, watching as the older man's head began to droop before stubbornness took hold and the soldier raised himself back to duty.

"Dean, man, why don't you take a break. I'll keep watch for a while."

Dean's eyes darted toward his brother momentarily before returning to the darkness outside their shelter. "I'm fine, Sam."

"No, Dean," Sam argued softly. "You're not. You've probably got a concussion, you're still recovering from a bullet wound and don't think I haven't noticed you not moving your right arm for the last half hour." He waited until his brother turned his head to glare at him before lifting both eyebrows innocently. "I'm not blind."

"Yeah, well you're the one who was shot."

"Grazed," Sam reminded him. He sighed in frustration, taking a chance at what might be concerning his brother. "Look, I know Bobby's out there alone. He's… well he's Bobby, and you know as well as I do that he can take care of himself. Besides, how many times has the old man pulled our butts out of the fire lately?"

Dean dipped his head, a crooked grin playing at the side of his mouth. "I know." He took a deep breath but relaxed his stance a bit and leaned back against the wall. "I just don't want anyone else getting hurt because of me."

Sam nodded. Dean had never really come to terms with the possibility that someone else would consider his life worth saving. Dean had made it his job to protect the innocent – to put his life on the line. And he had over and over, without hesitation. He had probably made the deal with the crossroads demon to bring Sam back without any consideration for himself. Sam had accused him of being selfish. Maybe he was. But he was also selfless.

Sam often found himself balancing between anger and awe when it came to his brother. Dean was probably the most stubborn, frustrating and annoying person Sam had ever known, but he was also the most loyal, heroic and self-sacrificing when it came right down to it. Sam often found himself aggravated by the lengths his brother went to protect him, until he reminded himself that it was how Dean showed the depths of his devotion.

"Neither do I, but Bobby's one of the best hunters I know. He'll be okay."

Dean reached his left hand up and rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah."

Sam glanced out the slats, his eyes darting around the darkened landscape, searching for any kind of movement in the shadows. Another look at his brother and he could see Dean's head beginning to tilt back against the slats. It was hard for him to consider what his life would be like without Dean.

He hated Dean for being weak enough to make that deal.

He loved him for being strong enough to want to.

"You know, I understand now why you did it."

Dean's gaze slowly tracked to his brother, his expression guarded as if he already knew where his little brother was going with this. "Did what?"

"I understand why you made that deal."

"You do, huh?" Dean didn't move his head, just shifted his eyes back to the darkness outside, clearly uncomfortable with the reminder of his looming expiration date.

Sam nodded, his own eyes moving back to the shadows playing outside the shed. "After Florida, I was ready to do anything to get you back. I even…" his voice cracked softly as the events of those long months alone played in his mind.

"What."

Sam could feel his brother's gaze upon him once again and he cleared his throat before continuing softly. "The Trickster disguised itself as Bobby. Offered up it's own life for you." He took a long breath and managed to pull his gaze back inside the shed. "I took it."

The surprise in Dean's voice filtered through the darkness. "You – you killed Bobby?"

Sam shook his head slightly, not able to meet his brother's gaze. "I knew it wasn't him." Except that wasn't quite true. "Well, I was pretty sure."

"Pretty sure?"

"The point is, I was ready to do anything – whatever it took to get you back." He finally raised his head and looked his brother square in the eyes. "So, I guess I understand why you made that lousy deal."

"I couldn't live with you dead." Dean said with a slight shrug of his shoulder.

"Yeah." Sam leaned back against the wall. "I'm just sorry I gave you such a hard time about it is all."

Dean nodded. "I would've kind of worried about you if you hadn't." He shifted against the wall, grunting as his sore shoulder protested the movement. "Look, Sammy. If this demon gets past Bobby, I want you to promise me something."

Sam was already shaking his head, experience telling him exactly where his brother was going with this line of thought. "Uh uh, Dean. We are not splitting up. I'm not going to let you throw yourself in the line of fire for me anymore."

"Come on, Sammy. Be realistic here. I don't have some kind of death wish, okay? Believe me, I'm in no hurry to head downstairs before my year is up, but look around, Sam. This sheds gonna come down on top of us if we breathe too hard. It's not exactly the friggin' Alamo here –"

"The men at the Alamo all died, Dean."

Dean took a deep breath through his nose and pursed his lips. "Do you ever get tired of being such a 'glass half-empty' kind of guy?" He shook his head and leaned forward, pinning his brother with his eyes. "Look, Sam. I'm already on the road to hell. There's no point in you heading there with me. Please. Don't make this all for nothing."

Sam was still shaking his head, not giving in to his brother's plea. "No, Dean. Like it or not, we're in this together. I'm not giving up. And neither are you."

The stared at each other through the pale light, each trying to make the other see reason, both knowing they were in a position they would not compromise.

A soft squelching sound from outside caught their attention and both hunters returned their attention to the darkness beyond the warped slats of the shed. A sudden snap in the wood near Dean caused both men to jump as a hand smashed through the old wood and latched onto Dean's right shoulder. Dean screamed through clenched teeth as the hand dug into the already wounded muscles of his upper right arm and with incredible force pulled him straight back, the vice like grip pinning his body to the shaky wall of the shed.

"Sam!" Dean growled, his eyes squeezed shut as his left hand pulled in vain to alleviate the pressure of the demon's grip.

"Dean!" Sam screamed his brother's name as he bolted from his position. "Hold on!"

"I think he's got that covered!"

Sam ignored his brother's lame joke, his eye quickly scanning the tools on the wall for something he thought he'd seen earlier… there! Skirting around the pieces of equipment on the ground, Sam hurried to the opposite wall and pulled a large metal rod that looked as if it may have been some sort of router or auger. The rod tapered from a width of about four inches with rows of metal blades surrounding it like a scythe which ran from the top to near the bottom. The other end of the nearly 4 foot rod, tapered into a dull point which was crusted with dirt.

Sam had no idea what the piece of equipment was used for, he only knew it looked as if it could be used as a weapon. Quickly returning to his brother who had turned, managing to get the hand partly pried from his shoulder, Sam held up the rod like a bat and gave his brother a quick look of warning. With only a moment's hesitation, he brought the large end of the rod down on the hand, wincing at the sound of pain coming from Dean as the router blow reverberated into his wounded shoulder.

The hand quickly let go and Dean slid from the piles of fertilizer as Sam quickly twirled the router and slammed the thinner, pointed end straight through the hand, pinning it to the warped boards of the shed wall.

A loud scream of pain echoed through the shed as Sam grabbed the collar of his brother's jacket and hauled him to his feet, pushing the shorter man through the small shed. Without stopping, Sam kicked the door open and pulled his brother out behind him, grabbing his arm firmly as they took off into the darkness.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_For those of you who didn't know, this has been a sort of writing experiment for me. I'm posting this as I go, not really knowing exactly where I was going - which is so not my usual M.O. Normally I've got the entire story plotted, thought-out and written completely before I even start to let it trickle into public view. I always had an end in mind for this, but was sort of seeing which path would present itself to get there. Well, you'll be pleased to know, the path did present itself and I now know exactly where I'm going with this! Yes! It does have a point!! So, fear not faithful readers, I am deeming the experiment a success (at least my part of it, the actual success of the story lies in your hands as usual). But I have concluded that it's a whole lot less stressful having the darn thing done before posting. A valuable lesson I will try to remember for the future._

**Long Road to Ruin**

Chapter 5

"Damn," Bobby sighed, running a hand across his stubbled chin. It had taken him a while to find the small shed at the edge of the field and from what he saw before him, he cursed himself for not being able to move faster.

There was no sign of the Winchesters or the possessed cop, but what he could see made his heart hammer in his chest. While the structure seemed old and weathered, it was fairly sound and had earned its facade standing up against the harsh Midwest elements for quite some time. What had made his heart leap into his throat was the large, gaping hole on the west side of the structure that was covered with blood.

Bobby couldn't be sure whose blood was now staining the gnarled wood of the shed, but could only hope that whoever had spilled it wasn't named Winchester.

Of course, the odds of that were far to high for the grizzled old hunter to calculate at the moment. He could only hope that if one of the boys was wounded, the other was still in a position to defend and protect his brother.

A quick search of the small building conveyed very little as to what had happened here recently. There was another small swash of blood against the opposite wall, as well as blood on the end of a long tapered rod that had obviously been used to wound someone – or something – which accounted for the pools of blood dripping from the wall onto the stacked bags of fertilizer lining the side of the shed.

The shrill sound of his phone made him jump and he grabbed for the small device, speaking before bothering to check the name on the display. "Sam?"

The connection was tenuous at best, but Bobby gave a sigh of relief as the familiar voice filtered through the line.

"_Bobby?"_

"What the hell, kid? Are you boys okay?"

"…_breaking up… Dean's... both okay for now… are you?"_

Bobby frowned, trying to make sense of the haphazard words. "Damnit, Sam, I can barely hear you. You're cutting in and out. Where the hell are you?"

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

Sam turned in a slow circle, hoping to get a better signal as he tried to understand the older man's broken words coming through the phone.

"…_Sam…hear you…cutting…the hell are you?"_

"We're okay," the younger man said slowly, trying to keep his voice to a low volume. They had run at a slow, shuffling jog for about ten minutes after they escaped the shed. An angry scream had echoed off into the night, but that had been the last sound they had heard from the demon. They had stayed to the hard packed dirt that obviously sufficed as a sort of path to the shed from what they hoped was the main road. The path was rough and strewn with small rocks and ruts and both brothers had managed to stumble more than once.

After ten minutes or so, they had come across a wire fence, which had signaled the edge of the field. Past the fence lay a gravel road leading off into the distance to what they both hoped was civilization. Scrambling up the ditch with the aid of his left hand and both feet to the side of the road, Dean had lowered himself to his knees and sat hunkered down, right arm held close to his body, head low as he panted in the still night air.

"Call Bobby," he had managed between gasps for air. Sam had given his brother a cursory look that had been, expectedly, waved off with a gruff 'I'm fine' grunted in a low voice.

"Bobby?" Sam called again. "Where are you?"

"… _found the shed… blood… boys okay?"_

"We're fine," Sam managed to get the gist of the older man's concerns despite the bad connection. "Well, Dean's a little worse for wear –"

"Where is he?" Dean's grumble cut him off and Sam was relieved to find his brother's breathing slowing back to something resembling normal.

"He's at the shed. Demon must've taken off."

Dean nodded. "Tell him to be careful. Tell him we need Holy water, salt shells, hell anything that can stop this thing." They hadn't bothered to bring gunsn into the truck stop, deciding it was safer to leave them locked in the protected trunk of the Impala rather than risk the possibility of having it detected inside. After leaving the mess in Colorado, they had not considered having the demons find them so quickly – especially out here in the middle of nowhere.

Obviously they had been a bit too optimistic.

"Bobby, we need weapons. This demon is armed. Do you have what we need?"

_"…holy wa__ter, but ...not enough... __You don't…. damnit… told you…"_

"Bobby, just back to the Impala. We'll try to get back to you."

The dead silence on the other end of the phone told Sam that the call had been dropped. He only hoped the older hunter had been able to hear his final request before the connection had been lost.

"He'd better not scratch my paint," Dean mumbled, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

Sam's response was cut off by the sound of crunching gravel and the low growl of a rough running engine. A soft glow began to brighten the darkness from the left as a pair of headlights crested the small hill about fifty yards down the gravel road.

Both hunters squinted into the sudden glare and Sam took a step closer to his brother.

The battered old pick-up pulled up with a screech of brakes, a cloud of dust from the gravel billowing out and around the back. An old, weathered man leaned across the bench seat, throwing an arm across the back for balance as he took in both men.

"You boys are a bit far from town. You lost?"

Dean grunted as he pushed himself up, grabbing onto the arm offered in silent support from his brother. "Had a little accident a couple miles back," he lied smoothly. "Any chance you could give us a lift back to the truck stop?"

The man seemed to weigh his options for a moment, his practiced gaze shifting from one brother to the other before giving a small nod and leaning back against the driver's seat. "I guess I could spare the time. Hop in, boys."

Dean looked up at his brother, giving the taller man a small shrug as if to say 'it sure as hell beats walking' before stepping forward onto the road. Sam sighed and followed his brother, reaching around to grab the door handle. He held it open, giving Dean a brace as the shorter man hauled himself one handed into the pick-up. He followed, pulling the door securely closed behind him.

"Must've been a hell of an accident," the old man said casually, taking a quick look at the brother's disheveled and slightly bloody appearance.

"Deer jumped out in front of us," Dean replied with a convincing grin of feigned embarrassment. "Damn thing came out of nowhere."

The old farmer nodded, a grin of his own splitting the weathered face. "Had that happen myself a time or two."

He reached up to shift into drive as his two passengers exchanged a look of amusement. Sam mouthed the word 'deer', his eyebrows raised in question as well as admiration at his brother's ability to lie with such ease.

Dean simply grinned in return.

"What the hell?"

Both hunters returned their attention to the road as the old man slowed the truck. Sam's heart jumped into his throat as his eyes focused on the figure in the middle of the road.

The cop was already in a firing stance, the headlights of the old pick-up glinting off the service pistol held firmly in his bloody grasp.

"Back up," Dean said softly, his eyes wide as he held the gaze of the possessed officer standing motionless outside the truck.

"What?" The old man's voice cracked. "Look, boys, I don't want no trouble –"

The report of the gun forced Dean to duck as low as the close quarters of the pick-ups cab allowed. Pushing his brother down, he covered him as best as he could, his hunter's instincts taking over as he reached behind him for the pistol he knew wasn't there. Raising his head a split second later, he felt his anger surge as he saw the neat little hole in the windshield, which tracked perfectly with the one now decorating the center of the farmer's forehead.

"No!"

His eyes blazing as he turned back to the demon still straddling the center of the road, Dean shifted his left leg, and throwing the pick-up into drive, stomped on the accelerator. The heavy vehicle spun on the loose gravel before hurtling forward, slamming into the policeman with the force of jackhammer.

The possessed man's body flew across the hood of the truck, cracking the rest of the windshield before tumbling off the side back down to the gravel. The impact sent the vehicle careening at an angle and toward the ditch on the side of the road even as Dean fought to get a hand on the wheel. The pick-up came to an abrupt halt, nose down in the ditch, the only movement the settling of the dust and gravel around it.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Long Road to Ruin**

Chapter 6

As the dust settled, Dean was able to slowly push himself back off the dashboard of the truck. The old farmer was lying motionless against the steering wheel, his face turned toward Dean, his blank eyes staring at him accusingly. A low moan to his right tore his attention from the dead man and he tried to force himself back against the seat, gravity from the nose-tilt of the truck making the motion almost impossible.

"Sammy?" He coughed, the croak of his own voice barely recognizable. "You okay?"

"Yeah," was the slow response. "You?"

Dean quickly took stock. Head still hurt, shoulder was throbbing, stomach was queasy. "No worse than before," he answered honestly. "Which is more than I can say for Farmer John, here."

"So, now what?"

Dean leaned forward, his left forearm braced against the dashboard, surrendering to the law of gravity. "First, we get the hell out of this truck."

Sam nodded and braced his shoulder against the door, slamming against it a few times before it opened to the Iowa night. Tumbling from the cab, his eyes skimmed the dark road for a sign of the demon as his brother scrambled down beside him.

"Dean." He felt more than saw his brother's eyes shift toward him and he tilted his head toward the road. "It's gone."

"Damnit," Dean swore under his breath. "Can't we ever get a break?"

Sam rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and flexed his right arm to test the security of the bandage wrapped around it. "Maybe it's a good thing," he offered. "I mean, if it was still here, it's not like we have anything to fight it with. I don't even have a salt packet from the buffet."

"Yeah, well the way it keeps disappearing, the way it keeps toying with us is really starting to piss me off."

Sam chuckled at his brother's bravado and shook his head fondly. "Maybe you could just throw rocks at it."

"Maybe you could just shut up."

Sam took a deep breath, ignoring Dean's response. "So now what? We should probably head back to the interstate and hook up with Bobby…" his voice drifted off as he noticed Dean's frown. "What?" Dean slowly turned to Sam, and his eyes rose slowly to meet his brothers, a mixture of irritation and bewilderment on his shadowed face.

"Damnit!" he whispered, his eyes locked on his brother's. "We were sitting on the answer the whole time."

Sam shook his head slowly and took a step closer to the shorter man. Dean had hit his head a few times tonight. Maybe the injuries were starting to take a toll on his ability to function logically. "Dean?" Sam ducked down, trying to get a better look at his brother's eyes in the soft glow from the trucks broken headlights. "Man, you okay? You're not making much sense here."

Dean pushed Sam's reaching hand away and grabbed the front of his jacket firmly. "No, Sammy, I mean literally. We were sitting on the answer the whole time. Literally!"

Sam was starting to become concerned. "Dean, what the hell are you talking about?"

Instead of explaining, Dean held his hand out, wiggling his fingers back and forth in the universal 'give me' gesture. "Phone," he said hurriedly, his body shifting impatiently from foot to foot as he as he waited for the item in question. Sam fumbled the small device from his jacket pocket and tossed it to his brother who quickly punched in a speed dial number. "Hey, Bobby," he began as he turned and began to make his way back down the road to the dirt path, turning slightly and waving for Sam to follow. "Meet us back at the shed, I've got an idea."

He listened for a moment, then nodded and flipped the phone closed.

Sam stood for a moment, both arms outstretched in confusion as he watched his brother work his way back over the fence and start back down the path toward the shed. "Dean!" he called but the older man didn't stop, merely waved a hand as he began to disappear into the shadows. "What the hell? What'd Bobby say?"

Dean turned, moving backwards as he answered. "Someone should tell him that idjit isn't really a word." He turned back around without waiting for a response. "Come on, Sammy. I'll explain when we get there."

Sam dropped his arms to his side, standing for a moment in utter confusion. "Stupid jerk," he muttered as he shook his head. He forced his feet to move, hurrying to catch up with his brother. "Wait up!"

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

The shed was quiet as they drew near, no sign of movement – demonic or otherwise – was detectable in the soft moonlight.

"Explain to me why it's such a great idea to be trapped in here again?"

Dean grinned and pulled open the door, quickly shuffling across the small space to the stacked bags of fertilizer. He patted the top of one and turned to Sam, eyebrows dancing. "Because of this."

Sam frowned and shook his head. "Because of fertilizer?" he asked slowly. "Dean, we want to kill demons, not grow them."

Dean just shook his head and pulled one of the heavy bags off the pile awkwardly with his left arm. "No, dummy. Fertilizer has sodium nitrate…" his voice trailed off as he saw the information start to trigger a reaction in his brother's whiz kid brain.

"Salt!"

"Bingo! If we can lure it inside, we can use the salt in the fertilizer to trap it here long enough to exorcise the damn thing, or, worst case, at least hold it long enough for Bobby to get here with something to kill it."

"You really think that'll work?"

Dean stopped and tilted his head in thought for a moment before giving a lopsided shrug. "I will if you will."

He started to pull another bag down from the stacks before Sam took pity on him and, lent a hand.

"So, how the hell did you know there was salt in fertilizer?"

Dean made an attempt to look offended, but quickly ducked his head to hide a grin. "Hey, you may have been the big brained, geek-boy genius in high school, but I learned a thing or two in classes. While you were spending an ungodly amount of time debating politics and reading poetry, I was concentrating on the cool stuff like chemistry where we learned what common everyday stuff was really made of."

"You only liked chemistry because you got to blow stuff up."

Sam recognized Dean's smile as the one that had terrified many a high school science teacher. "Everything has its perks, Sammy."

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

With his bad shoulder, Dean was relegated to opening the bags with his silver blade that was always tucked into the inside of his boot while Sam was forced to do the actual carrying, lifting and pouring of fertilizer. Without knowing the actual salt content, they opted to make a heavy perimeter around the outside of the small shed, laying the salt as close to the base of the structure as possible to camouflage it in the shadows.

"I think one more bag should do it," Sam wiped the sweat from his brow as he straightened and inspected their progress. They had started at the corner next to the small door and progressed around three sides of the shed, finally laying a thick line up to and partially around the last corner of the wall. There was one more bag lying outside and Dean quickly brandished his knife and cut a large slit in the top.

A shuffling sound caught his attention and he paused, eyes searching the darkness as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Sam was very familiar with his brother's body language and years of observation told him that Dean's finely tuned intuition had picked up on something.

"Bobby?" Sam whispered, taking a step closer to his brother.

Dean shook his head. He nodded at the bag of fertilizer, turning his knife in his hand so that it was now a weapon rather than a tool. "Finish the line," he instructed quietly. "Leave the door open."

Sam nodded and hefted the heavy bag without a word, moving to the corner of the shed where the line of white against the base ended. His peripheral vision noted his brother slipping quietly around the other corner, his heart beating faster as soon as the older hunter was out of Sam's direct line of sight.

He knew Dean was capable of taking care of himself – hell he'd spent most of his life taking care of himself as well as Sam and Dad. But he also knew Dean was far from 100, even though the older man had been doing his best to hide his discomfort from Sam's watchful gaze. As he carefully laid the line of fertilizer, he tried to track his brother's movements by the soft, almost imperceptible sounds coming from the other side of the shed. His mind focused on those two tasks left him vulnerable and unaware of the demon's presence until a strong hand gripped his wounded arm and pulled him back, tossing him onto his back on the ground.

Sam landed with a grunt, clutching his arm as he looked up onto the shadowed form of the possessed cop. He scrambled back, his momentum taking him past the doorway to the corner of the shed.

"Where's the rest of your army?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady even as his heart threatened to jump to his throat and choke him.

"I don't need an army to dispose of the likes of you," the demon sneered. It took a step closer, towering over the prone hunter. "Where's the other one?"

"Right here, you son of a bitch!"

Sam ducked as two hundred pounds of pissed-off Winchester lunged from the shadows and smashed headfirst into the demon, momentum carrying both figures through the open door into the dark shed. He lifted his head as the sound of a body hitting the wall reached his ears.

"Dean!"

TBC

_I know, I know, another cliffie end. I'm sorry but it really is the only breaking point between these last two chapters. Really! I promise it'll all be better as soon as I post the final chapter. Soon. I promise._


	7. Chapter 7

Long Road to Ruin

**Long Road to Ruin**

Chapter 7

"Sam!"

Quickly pushing himself to his feet, Sam turned toward the familiar voice, swallowing in relief as his eyes made out the shadowy form of Bobby Singer lumbering up the dirt path. Sam couldn't believe his eyes. The older man must've made it back to the truck-stop and decided to drive back toward the shed rather than trek back across the rolling Iowa landscape.

"Bobby!" Sam called, motioning toward the shed. "It's in there!"

"Where's Dean?" Bobby's voice was thin in between pants for air as he forced his aging body to pick up speed as he crossed the final distance to the shed. The look on Sam's face told him more than words ever could. "Here!"

Pulling the strap from around his neck, the older man tossed a small canteen toward Sam.

"Lay the rest of the salt," Sam ordered, not wasting any time as he crossed to the closed door of the shed. He shouldered the door open, sure the older hunter would finish laying the line without question. Though Sam was not prone to issuing orders on a hunt, this was not the first time they had been in a dire situation, the need for action outweighing the need for clarity. Sam knew that Bobby would sense what needed to be done and take care of it without worrying about who was giving orders to whom.

The inside of the shed was still dark, but the moonlight was enough to see the two figures standing inside – well the one figure standing and the other making a valiant attempt at an upright position.

Dean was slouched against the far wall, head down, his body turned toward the wall obviously protecting his right side. From the way his brother held his arm tightly against his body, Sam guessed his shoulder injury had been aggravated not to mention the head injury jarred. Despite Dean's penchant for playing the superhero, Sam knew that his brother was only human, with human limitations – even if said brother never actually admitted to them.

"Hey!" Sam yelled, stopping the demon from advancing across the small interior of the shed toward his brother.

The demon turned its head, snarling at the younger Winchester. "You're next."

"That really doesn't work for me."

Sam twisted the cap of the canteen off and in one fluid movement, splashed the contents of the bottle toward the demon, aiming the stream toward its face and eyes. As the blessed water hit the possessed man, he screeched, his skin sizzling, emitting an acrid smoke as the liquid combated the evil force it encountered.

"Dean! Move!" He called over the loud scream emitted from the demon's mouth.

Without waiting for his brother to acknowledge his words, Sam barreled into the possessed cop, tackling him against the side wall. He quickly regained his footing and turned back, grabbing the sleeve of his brother's jacket and hauling them both back toward the door. As Sam pulled open the door, both men stumbled out into the night air, throwing themselves forward as they instinctively avoided the now completed line of fertilizer.

As the door snapped shut at their heels, Sam rolled to his knees, his hands ghosting over his brother's prone form.

"Dean!"

"Stop screaming, Sammy," the injured man groused, raising a hand to his head to cover his eyes. "I've got a freakin' concussion, remember?"

Sam snorted in relief and sat back on his haunches. "Now you admit it?"

Dean grinned. "Just finish it, dude." As Sam began reciting the Latin exorcism in a loud, clear voice, Dean dropped his hand and for the first time, noticed they weren't alone. "Oh, hey, Bobby," his grin was more of a wince than anything else. "When did you get here?"

Snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns

"You think Bobby's gonna let us out of his sight anytime in the near future?" Sam glanced to his right, his eyes surreptitiously cataloguing his brother's current state of discomfort.

They had exorcised the demon, leaving the police officer a little worse for wear. Dean had hit the man with the old farmer's truck, but it had been a glancing blow, the old truck not capable of any kind of speed that could seriously damage a target. The man would have one hell of a headache, not to mention a collection of serious bruises to show for his evening. Of course, explaining how the old farmer was shot with the cop's gun would probably be chalked up to the two escaped prisoners he was transporting, but since they didn't have their names – and the Winchesters were officially dead thanks to Agent Hendrickson – both men felt sure their explanations as to the events of the night would be something the cop would keep to himself.

As soon as they'd been sure the cop would be alright, Bobby had herded them back to the gravel road to his Chevelle. From there it had only taken a few minutes to return to the truck stop.

There were still highway patrol cars and county sheriff's vehicles at the stop, but they paid little attention to the rusted Chevelle as it pulled up next to the black Impala. Sam quickly pulled himself from the passenger seat, turning to help extricate his brother from his slumped position in the back.

As expected, Dean had adamantly refused any type of professional medical attention for his shoulder, allowing Bobby to strap it securely to his torso with an Ace bandage from his med kit. Once it had been immobilized, he breathed a sigh of relief as the pain lessened and allowed the other two hunters to take control as he relaxed into the old, worn leather of the back seat, closing his eyes and allowing his body to drift into a half sleep until they'd returned to the Impala.

Now, as they followed Bobby's tail lights down the dark miles of Interstate 80, Dean pursed his lips and shrugged his left shoulder as he considered his brother's question.

"He's probably getting a little tired of pulling our asses out of the fire," he admitted.

"Maybe," Sam nodded slowly in acceptance. "Still, it's good knowing."

"Knowing what?"

"That we're not alone in all this."

Sam's voice was soft, his eyes carefully focused on the road ahead.

"Sammy," Dean sighed, his eyebrows rising at the sincerity of his brother's statement. "We've always been alone."

Sam swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing on his throat. "Maybe. But I ever really felt alone… thanks to you."

Dean turned his head, his brow furrowing as he stared at his brother's profile. "Me?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded again, his eyes leaving the road for a brief moment as he glanced at the man beside him. "You were always there, Dean. Always watching out for me. You still are. I just wish…" he seemed to take a moment to think, carefully constructing what he wanted to say. "I just wish someone had been there for you."

"Dad was there."

"Sometimes," Sam admitted. He placed his right hand on the steering wheel and leaned into the door, the events of the evening finally taking their toll on his tired body.

"Where's all this coming from, Dr. Phil?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders tiredly. "I guess it was being out there… alone, no weapons, nothing but us against a demon. I realized that I wasn't really scared. And it was because I wasn't alone. You were there and somehow that made everything okay."

"Sammy…"

"No, Dean," Sam interrupted. "Just let me say this." When his brother acknowledged with a slight nod, he continued. "I've never felt alone because of you. I just want you to know – really know – that you're not alone in this deal. Bobby and me, we're not giving up on you. We're gonna find a way to save you."

The silence in the car was uncomfortable and Sam shifted in his seat, knowing he'd just blurted out exactly what his brother wanted to avoid hearing. Dean had admitted he didn't want to die – that he didn't want to go to hell, but he'd made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to allow Sam to sacrifice himself in the process. He had avoided talking about the deal for the last month, obviously not wanting to know what Sam and Bobby were planning – if anything – to break the damn thing. Which was why his soft response took the younger man totally by surprise.

"Okay."

Sam turned his gaze to the right, his eyes wide as he took in his brother's innocent grin. "Okay?"

"Okay," Dean repeated with a nod. "But in the meantime, do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Next time we get our butts in a sling, you call Bobby. I don't think I can stand being called an idjit one more time. We really need to buy that man a dictionary."

Sam face broke into a smile of its own. "Deal," he agreed with a soft chuckle. "So, after we have four good arms again, where to?"

"About that," Dean's voice was the one he'd been using on unsuspecting women for years. "I've been thinking."

"The three most frightening words in the English language."

"Ha, ha," Dean leaned back into the seat, allowing his head to drop back against the cushion. "Seriously, Sammy. What do you say we head west."

"Just west?" Sam shook his head in confusion, "Why west?"

"It's a leap year, dude. It's gonna be the last chance I have to check it out."

Sam frowned as his memory drug up a vague recollection. "You're talking aboutn the Morton House?"

Dean nodded, his face splitting into a grin.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Dean sat up a little straighter, ready to present his argument. "Come on, Sam. It's like a ghost hunter's Holy Grail. Hell, even Dad wanted a stab at the Morton House. What do you say, huh? Consider it my dying wish."

Sam rolled his eyes. "How many times are you gonna play the 'dying wish' card, Dean?"

"As many times as I can, little brother."

Sam simply shook his head, a look of fond exasperation lighting his face. As far as he was concerned, Dean could have a lifetime of 'dying wishes', and he'd do everything in his power to make them all come true. It was going to be a long road to salvation, but Sam was determined to find the way… no matter what it took.

After all, he was entitled to a dying wish of his own.

The End

_Here endeth the experiment. While posting as I write was exciting, I think I'll stick with the trued and tried method of finishing a story completely before I set it free. If only to avoid embarrassing lapses in continuity (thank you soo much TCB!!) Of course, only you guys can let me know if this worked, so… let me have it. Good or bad. It can only help the next one… which I've actually got spinning in my warped little brain. (grins evilly)_


End file.
